


One Choice

by Imaginarycupcakes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Derogatory Language, Explicit Language, F/M, Master/Slave, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, S&M, Sexist Language, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Slave Trade, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-02-22 01:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2489954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imaginarycupcakes/pseuds/Imaginarycupcakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger made the decision to save her friends. Now her new Master will take her to the darkest places in Pureblood society in the hopes that they will stop Voldemort before he destroys them all. Will she survive that long?</p>
<p>Warning: Consent given with partial knowledge, safety sign not always honored. Rape, non-con elements as well as sexual and regular violence against men and women. Slavery and slave trade.</p>
<p>This is, ultimately, a love story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for stopping by. Updates will come every Wednesday at the least, maybe more frequently if I hit a happy streak. 
> 
> WARNINGS for sexual violence, slavery, extreme BDSM themes, Non-con elements. Consent is given but after that choice is taken away and safety sign will not always be honored though it is established. 
> 
> This is a fantasy story and I'm going to explore the dark side of a sexual submissive's needs. Safe, sane, CONSENSUAL. This is not how I think a relationship should be conducted in real life but everyone is allowed their fetishes and kinks. In any case, I hope you enjoy. Kudos and comments appreciated, as always. If you are interested in beta-reading, drop me a comment or a message.

“I have a solution.”

The words shut the room up in a hurry. Though it had been rather amusing to hear the Order members argue—some of them Hermione’s favorite teachers—she was glad for the sudden wake of silence. Her ears throbbed and she touched her temple idly, not looking in the direction of the speaker. The slight disdain and coolness gave a Malfoy away, though Draco in particular had more skill for it than even his father now. He had jumped into the role of spy with ease, leaving Hermione decidedly uneasy. Not that she’d admit to wasting two seconds on the Slytherin.

He was a fellow Order member. Her interest in him started and ended there.

She held her tea mug in both her hands, listening him detail some aspects of pure blood society and how Voldemort functioned within them. She was staring deep into her mug, watching the liquid tremble and lap the edges of the ceramic. She took a hasty sip and set it back on the table. Her hands arranged themselves in her lap.

She wasn’t listening. She had heard this very explanation the night prior. Horrific to hear how ingrained some traditions were. She had founded an organization to help House Elves escape slavery but never had she considered—no. Calm. She had to be calm, because soon he was going to bring attention to her. And if Harry or Ron saw any doubt, they’d pounce. She wouldn’t be able to help bring peace to so many. To her friends, to strangers even.

“I need your assistance Granger.” She swore lately he spoke in frank statements that somehow managed to insult in the same breath. She almost missed when he’d been childish and spouting filth. Now she felt as if she was two moves behind in speed chess, making an idiot of herself.

Her arms crossed defensively over her thin pajama top and he raised an eyebrow. /Needn’t bother with that Granger,/ she mentally filled in for him.

“How…unexpected. I must decline,” she said, making to step neatly around him. She encountered his chest and frowned hard at him. The frown lessened as he seemed to almost…smile at her. It wasn’t reassuring, not in the least.

“Ah, but you haven’t heard what I require.”

“The fact that you are requiring it tells me I must decline.” Another step, another way blocked. She lifted her gaze, getting more riled as she stared at his arrogant, smarmy face.

“You’re going to hear me out.” He pressed a finger to her lips, barely touching but it was enough to stop her next argument. He waited, then dropped his finger before continuing.

“You’re going to hear me out, because you will be able to save your friends and a whole host of people who will never recognize you for it. In this particular case, I do not exaggerate when I say you are the only person who can be trusted with this.”

She nearly laughed. “Oh please, no need for melodrama--”

He was in her space, crowding her so her back was to the wall. Her mouth dried and she was glad for her crossed arms. She looked at him, all amusement fading. His entire expression had shifted and…he was serious. He was serious. She drew in a shaky breath, feeling it burn her lungs some.

“I’m listening.”

There had been no triumph in his eyes. He had nodded and brought her to the library, poured her a double of firewhiskey. She had held it for the first few minutes while she listened to him speak. Fifteen minutes later when he fell silent, she realized that the glass was gone and she was motioning for another.

They had never been friends, but his expression was somewhat sympathetic. Maybe she was being fanciful. He at least had poured her another drink.

Obviously now he was reaching the important parts, considering the outrage of the room.

“We can’t ask any of ours to do…to do…” Ron seemed flabbergasted and some dark part of Mione wanted to smile. But she restrained herself.

“We all make sacrifices. Malfoy is offering a direct way to get intel by installing a spy. He has proven himself trustworthy.” Kingsley’s louder voice made Ron look away, properly chastised.

Ron couldn’t argue that, nor could anyone else. Snape’s influence brought him here but giving information to allow a raid on his father sealed it. It also set him up to be the heir to the Malfoy name and Lucius’s place in the Death Eaters.  Hermione mentally counted to five. Ron didn’t disappoint.

“B-but this… this is volunteering someone for slavery! Y’know, not to mention the… the sexual part of it.” Ron was about as red as his hair and Mione had to look away, lest she give herself away. Unfortunately she encountered Harry’s gaze, looking at her with a dawning sense of reality. His expression blackened by the second. Mione glanced back at her tea, picking it up carefully this time. No sloshing.

More talking, and Malfoy was being quiet. She felt his gaze, as well as Harry’s and a few others who started to feel the tension.

“Mione,” Harry tried to whisper at her.

Her tea was growing cold in her hands and she set it down in its saucer carefully. She didn’t look at either Harry or Ron as she pushed herself to a standing position. The table fell quiet and Hermione took in a deep breath.

“There won’t be any need to volunteer anyone. I volunteer myself.” She took in a breath and met the eyes of the people who were looking at her like she was still a student at Hogwarts, nothing more than good grades and the best friend of one Harry Potter. She straightened her spine. “I’ve got the time. My parents are Muggles. I fit every requirement.” Her mouth felt dry as she saw the spectrum of emotions on people’s faces. Pity, fear, admiration, resignation.

Draco still stood next to her and she turned and looked at him last. She couldn’t read his expression which was perhaps for the best. Still, it bolstered her enough to silence the protests coming from her two best friends in the world.

“This is my decision. It’s my body. This could give us the information to end things before they get worse. And they’re already horrible.” That was that. She sat down and took a sip of tea, allowing herself to retreat inwardly.

“You will be owned in every sense of the word.” He paused before moving an ottoman so he was sitting right in front of her, moving the now empty glass out of her numb hands. And, to her surprise, he took her hands in his. It was the only thing that brought her gaze to his and his expression was grim. “I will control your every second of the day. You will wear my marks, possibly for the rest of your life. You will be responsible for absolutely nothing without my say so. If I tell you to stop breathing, you will stop. If I wished I could keep you at my feet for a full day without letting you relieve yourself or eat or adjust. And while I will do my best to ensure your relative comfort, keeping the charade alive will keep you alive.” He squeezed her fingers and she could imagine the rest. The degradation that would ensue would be the trial of her life and the stakes weren’t merely life or death for her, but for hundreds of thousands. Her breathing got shallow but she couldn’t look away from his ice blue eyes. She could remember every bit of cruelty he had thrown her way, every sneer every blow to her self-esteem until she had learned how to block it all out.

“If… If I do this…” Her voice cracked and she swallowed, closing her eyes for a few long moments before opening them. His gaze never wavered. “I need…some way to communicate a limit. I know a safe word is out of the question and would risk it but if the line blurs too much…” She faltered, unable to finish that thought. She wasn’t stupid, she knew that over time they would settle into the roles expected of them.

He understood though. He idly ran his thumb over the back of her hand before releasing it, touching the space behind her ear lightly.

“The Malfoy crest will go here. If you are in a situation that scares you past composure or you are losing touch, you can touch it. If you are bound, simply baring your neck to this side for more than a few seconds will suffice. If I am reassuring you, I will touch this spot. Is that satisfactory?” He smiled, just barely. “We will be discussing expectations more but those will be flexible and might be changed. This will not.”

That was the best she could hope for. When she nodded he pulled his hands back to himself, getting up to pour her another double of Firewhiskey and she slumped down in her chair.


	2. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions run high and fantasies are a cold bedfellow.

The rest of the meeting drained her. She let Draco field the questions because she was completely aware of Harry looking at her worriedly and Ron not looking at her whatsoever. It had taken all of her energy just to speak her piece and then adjust to the looks of pity.  
  
That bit got under her skin. Pity, for what exactly? She hadn’t been forced and that was abundantly clear. Maybe they expected her to be completely ignorant of anything with a sexual connotation. The stack of books with mens’ chests and abs on them in her room would argue against that. There were even a few that had women bound at the wrists, blindfolded. Hermione had read them repeatedly. All for the sake of acquiring knowledge, of course.

Hermione wasn’t a virgin but that didn’t even come close to what she read. Intensity. Being so completely overwhelmed with feelings that were given, not taken. But those relationships had a foundation of at least some trust. Her brain stuck on that thought. Trust. Did she trust Draco Malfoy? Could you ever trust someone who made your life hell with the accurate cruelty of adolescence?

There was no alternative. He had handed over his father, risked his own skin. Now she was going to risk hers.  
A hand on her shoulder jarred her out of her thoughts. She looked at the pale skin, felt the firm grip. With a sort of morbid curiosity she looked across the table. Ron’s face was what she teased him was a level 4 temper tantrum. His features were contorted as he stared at the hand and in three...two...one… he stood up abruptly, slammed his chair back and stormed off. Harry wasn’t so easily provoked though his expression made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t going to be able to brush him off.

She made to get up and the grip on her shoulder kept her down, making her head whip up to see Draco looking down at her with a calm expression. Once he had her attention and she stayed seated he released the pressure, letting his hand linger.

“You’ll have three days to sort out your affairs. Reassure your entourage of your decision, spend time with them, enjoy every second. I’ll send for you.” His voice was quiet and she couldn’t shy away from the gravity of his words. As if remembering their audience he looked to Harry and smirked. He stroked his finger slowly up the side of her neck, toying with an errant curl before he removed his hand entirely. She watched him move away, leaving the room and closing the door with a click that was ominous and final. She turned to face Harry and moved a hand up to cover the spot on her shoulder, massaging away the prickly sensation while her other arm remained folded over her chest.

She felt a twinge at his expression but she held firm.

“Go ahead Harry,” she said, feeling a bit tired and her chest began to ache. The more she said the faster it came out with a desperate edge. “Go ahead and tell me how disappointed you are. How pissed off, how much I should despise this, shouldn’t do it. It’s written all over your face, I know what you must think of me.”  
Harry moved across the top of the table in a scramble and she realized she was crying, noisy sobs. His concerned face blurred and then he pulled her into his arms, pressing her face into his shoulder like she was a child. She held onto her best friend tightly, her breathing hiccuping and stuttering. The warmth of his hand rubbed up and down her back and he hummed nonsense. She was getting tears and snot all over his shirt but she couldn’t stop the flood of feelings that had been bottled up for the last day.

“H-harry… I’m so...so scared of losing...losing everything.” She managed, pulling her head back. He frowned a little but she cut him off before he could speak. “But t-that’s why...why I have to…” She drew in a shuddering breath. “I have to do this.”

“Mione, hush. Listen.” His voice was stern enough for her to shut up, mopping up tears with her sleeve. He was earnest and he hugged her again, knowing she needed the reassurance. She settled her head onto his shoulder. “You are still Hermione Granger, brightest witch and all that. I know you. You ran through the scenarios, weighed the outcomes, did research. I can’t fault you for making a courageous decision, even if it seems extreme. You will still be my friend no matter what happens. Do I wish it weren’t you doing this? Of course. I feel sick thinking about you in danger. But it’s not my place to make your decision, nor would I try. You get scary when you’re having a fit of temper.” His voice was wry and she half-heartedly pinched his arm for that.

“I just… looking at Ron’s face…” She said, feeling miserable at the change that was already happening.

“Don’t mind Ron. He only has an on/off switch for his temper. Upset and worried comes out as mad, you know that. He’ll come round, hopefully sooner rather than later. I’ll kick his arse if needed.” He let out a long sigh, then changed the subject abruptly. “So how about Ginny joining the Holyhead Harpies? Did you see the letter she sent?”  
The topics changed a few times, nonsense about the people they knew and the weird norm that the Wizarding World had tried to establish with the Dark Lord gaining power daily. They avoided talking about the curfews, the missing people, the threats within the Ministry. The idle conversation was a gift and a balm to her soul.  
It wasn’t until Harry escorted her up to her room and she shut the door that it all settled. This was reality. No boyfriend, no new job, no day to day. She was signing herself over to someone else.

She went about changing as if moving underwater, her body heavy and curiously numb. Her clothes whispered over her head and she fumbled with clasps and buttons. Moonlight illuminated the room in a murky way. The floor was chilly as she padded to the dresser, her fingers tracing her shoulder absentmindedly. She chose a large sleep shirt to wear and ran her fingers over the worn fabric. It felt thin and insubstantial as she pulled it over her head.  
The bed sank under her weight and her eyes closed, heavy with the exhaustion that only a good ugly cry could cause. She welcomed the exhaustion and pulled the quilt up to her shoulder, wrapping her arms around a spare pillow.

Sleep didn’t bring oblivion. It brought dreams.

She was spread out on a large four poster bed, the size of a Quidditch pitch. Her wrists and ankles were bound with thin golden chains, adorned with small coins that jingled softly as she tested them. She tilted her head up but froze as she felt the prick of something against the tender skin under her jaw. She slowly rolled her head, realizing the entire front of her neck was being held immobile by something cold and heavy and spiked. She made a small whimpering sound even as heat flooded her body.

The jingling increased when she felt the pressure of a hand on her abdomen and her eyes frantically searched the edges of her vision to no avail. She was suddenly aware of how very naked she was. She tugged at her wrists but the hand shifted to nails, dragging them slowly up her sternum and she made a soft sound.

“Shhhh… be still.” That voice was cold on the surface but there was a certain possessiveness to it. She recognized it and her struggles stopped even as her heart thudded in her chest. She swallowed, her throat thick, The nails shifted to a single finger outlining her breasts in an unhurried infinity pattern.

“Good girl. Just feel. This is your first lesson. Surrender.” The finger paused and trailed up, tapping the weight on her neck and she heard a faint metallic click. “Textbook definition, if you please.” The tone deepened a fraction and she realized she needed to answer.

“To…” Her voice came out as a croak, especially when his hand curved around her throat and his thumb traced along her jaw, pressing the pins into her throat idly. “To cease resistance to an opponent or enemy. To…” She couldn’t say the last word and she bit her lip, wondering at herself.

“Say it.” His voice held no room for argument and blonde hair suddenly hit the edge of her peripheral vision. Then he was bent over her, massaging her jaw in a way that could only be described as sensual. His silver eyes bored into hers, daring her to look away. To lie.

He pinched her chin and held her still, leaning down...down… Holding her still.

“One last chance, girl. Say it.” Or else, he didn’t say. The threat was there and very real. She swallowed, the slight shift making her aware of his hand caging her throat, more present and real than the collar. He applied just enough pressure of her jaw onto the collar and she felt the slow slide of something wet and warm down the side of her neck.

“Submit.” Her voice was quiet, soft but not pained. She was rewarded by the primal look that flashed over his features. He held her there for a few more seconds before removing his hand and tilting her head up, relieving the pressure of the spikes. She twitched when he moved his head down, flinching at the feel of his...his tongue lapping… Her brain didn’t have the power to explain his behavior, nor the gut clenching reaction she had to it. Then she felt her hair being pulled, roughly, making her arch her neck backwards to a painful angle.  
She whimpered. He growled. Then he pressed his thumb behind the joint of her jaw, applying enough pressure that her mouth opened in a mixture of startled pain. Then his lips pressed into hers, violently, There was no sensual slide, no game of tag. His tongue invaded her mouth, owned every corner, his thumb keeping her wide open. He forced her to taste her own blood, the coppery flavor inescapable. He had hurt her. Was still hurting her.

She was wet.

His teeth scraped over her lip and she made a mewling noise, loud with how she couldn’t relax her mouth. This wasn’t a kiss. This was a claim. A hand in her hair, a hand keeping her mouth open as he feasted.  
When she relaxed against his hold was when he was gone. His touch was absent, the chains were gone, she was wearing her sleep shirt. But she didn’t move, didn’t shut her mouth, didn’t open her eyes. Her body quivered in as she panted, stunned into place. Her eyes opened and he was there, watching her, untouchable and reserved.

“Well done, Granger. Three days.” The room went dark. She woke up, touching her neck, her body humming with a dark need. The skin was unblemished.

The dissapointment she felt was only outweighed by shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little after Wedsnesday, but here it is. Comment, kudos, do what you will! Lemme know if you are interested in being a beta reader!
> 
> XOXOXOXO ImaginaryCupcakes


	3. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Distractions are just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello one and all. This is the part where I beg your forgiveness for the long (long long long) delay in posting. As we all know, life likes to get in the way, especially when you suffer from depression. The little obstacles become mountains until you can recognize that they are little again. 
> 
> Many many many thanks to the comments and the kudos that peppered my inbox every day for my various works. Many thanks as well to Gin2a, my awesome Beta, who helped me tweak this so it came out in good shape. Any mistakes that remain are my own.

        That sense plagued Hermione well into the next morning. The rest of her night had been spent pointedly ignoring the dream as her body twisted in the sheets, restless. Everytime she relaxed the image of Draco’s face over her own, eyes piercing. It unsettled her enough to have her up with the first signs of the sun rising.

        The house was quiet and she decided to enjoy the rare solitude in Grimmauld Place. The dark, oppressive decor did nothing to replace the good memories of the strange family that was the Order. The house that had once been a seat of power for Pure-blooded wizards had become a haven for anyone willing to fight for freedom. Hermione embraced the feeling of irony as she fixed herself a cup of tea. The kitchen had been spruced up by Mrs. Weasely and was the cheeriest room in the house. If she could, she would spend the next three days here, watching people come in and out of the home. She would, if she didn’t feel as if she was already wearing a scarlet letter.

        That thought spurred her out of the haze she felt as she squared her shoulders and finished her tea in a few quick, searing gulps. She rinsed her cup clean and tiptoed back up the stairs. She had almost made it back to her room when Harry’s door opened. His green eyes went from bleary to alert as soon as he saw her. He offered up a tentative smile which she returned.

        “Morning,” she offered as he stepped into the hall. She reached up and pushed at his morning messy hair with a smile. He ducked away and his smile broadened.

        “Morning. Had tea already?”

        “Yes. I was just going to shower and…” And do something. Anything to ease the feeling of time slipping away, a Time-Turner spinning backwards and forwards at random.

        “Meet me downstairs when you’re finished. I have a surprise.” His voice was light-hearted, keeping her from surrendering to the heaviness on her mind. He tugged her hair in retaliation for messing with his and she swatted at his hand, laughing.

        “Okay, okay. I’ll see you in a half hour.” She ducked into her room, not wasting energy on considering whatever surprise Harry had in store. Instead she spent her thirty minutes wisely, taking a fast shower and drying her hair magically afterwards to avoid an afro. She braided her hair and dressed casually in a dark purple jumper and dark skinnies, her trainers beat up and fraying on the edges. The outfit made her feel comfortable and somewhat normal so she felt a bounce in her step as she headed downstairs, hearing a faint murmur of voices from the kitchen. Anxiety churned her stomach and she took a second to breathe.

        Two steps into the doorway and Hermione was disoriented as she was whirled around by a firm grip on her wrist. She stumbled after a very cheery looking Harry, fully dressed and looking far too pleased with himself as he dragged her after him.

        “Come on. I swear, you girls always take forever doing...whatever it is you do.” He said, waving a vague hand from her head to her toes. She narrowed her eyes at him and he winked, leading her out the front door. The extra security measures placed on Grimmauld Place kept them as safe as can be but she still felt the shiver of unease, being exposed out in the open. Harry grabbed her wrist and she locked her hand on his wrist tightly, knowing that he meant to Disapparate with her. She felt the sudden pressure, squeezing and disorientating. She blinked away the spots in her vision and looked around. It was green and lush with the neat paved paths known for in English gardens. It took her a minute, but the walls and the steeple covered in greenery gave it away.

        “St. Dunstan-in-the-East…” She murmured, smiling as she turned a full circle. The smells came to her, florals and grass and soil, masking the normal urban scents. It was a small oasis tucked inside of London. Out of the way and they were the only two in the park this early in the morning. Harry had his Invisibility Cloak as a precaution underneath his arm but they were firmly into Muggle territory. Last time Hermione checked, Death Eaters weren’t terrorizing gardens.

        Harry kept close by as she wandered along the small paved paths, eventually entering the church ruins. She loved that what was left of the walls was covered in vines and leaves. But the pathways were English, meticulously maintained. So she settled in on a bench and tipped her head back to view the morning sky, framed by craggy stone edges. Her mind flitted briefly to the history of the church, the bombing and subsequent transformation into something sacred in a different way. It was a lovely mesh of past and present and she felt peaceful.

        "Good on you Harry," she murmured when she felt him settle in next to her. He flashed a smile her way and nudged her leg with his.

        And there they sat, hearing in the distance the city waking up and thoroughly ignoring it. They waited until the noises disturbed the peace too much, the pedestrians and traffic became too loud. Then Harry pulled out the Invisibility Cloak and Mione sighed, standing up and stretching. Her anxiety was diminished. They couldn't spend the day cavorting in public, it was too dangerous, but she couldn't make herself scold Harry for the small moment of peace. He chucked the cloak overtop of both of them as they avoided the few people now walking through the paths, taking their coffee on benches and chatting. They found a quiet corner and removed the cloak, only to Disapparate back to Grimmauld Place.

        There was darkness and squeezing and a lack of air before they were on the front steps of their home away from home, bleak as it was. She was breathing easy now as Harry headed inside first and she followed. The air hummed with domestic noises, soft footsteps and rattling plates and murmurs of conversation. It was in direct contrast to the natural gloom of the house and never failed to make Hermione smile. The smell of food was enough to have her heading round the stairs to the kitchen, Harry close on her heels. Where earlier her appetite had deserted her, now she was starved for whatever large breakfast Mrs. Weasley had slaved over this morning.

        "Now where were you two this morning? Don't give me that sheepish look Harry, you two thought you could go gallivanting outside of the house, during these times? I've half a mind to set you to chores all day..." The tirade was rendered ineffective by motherly pats and bodily maneuvering until Hermione and Harry were seated at the small kitchen table. Hermione's mouth fairly watered to see the full-to-brim plates that were delivered before them. Eggs, toast, potatoes, sausage. Hermione attempted reassuring words that did nothing to stop the steady flow of motherly concern so she shrugged and started to eat. Harry grinned her way ruefully before tucking into his own meal.

        The rest of the day blurred before her, it passed in a contented daze as so many days had before. The difference was the quiet hourglass in the back of her mind, hidden in shadows but still trickling away. Three days, he had said and she felt those words like a brand. The distractions of Fred and George creating a firework that looked like books raining from the sky, Harry drawing her into a prolonged game of chess, a noisy dinner where everyone acted blissfully normal, they all helped mute the hourglass so the panic receded.

        But night came and she was alone in her room again. She stared at her things and felt a bit of stubbornness lift her chin as she put her hands on her hips. She wouldn't be afraid of being alone. She wouldn't be afraid of the hourglass ticking away. She wasn't losing herself. She was stronger than time, than all the imagined horrors awaiting her. Right now she had her bed, a stack of books and the peace of the night. With that in mind she changed and lay down on top of her covers, reading as she often did by a small orb of light she'd learned to create long ago. She read stories of fantasies and quests and love until her eyes burned, until she couldn't hold her eyes open a second longer. She slipped into oblivion with a book sprawled on her chest.

        She wasn't on a bed when she came to awareness. She swayed in bonds as she tested their strength, looking down and seeing a dark stone floor that shimmered with candlelight. She was hanging, bonds tugging at her skin where she was tied. Her arms were behind her back, hands clasped and tied to her forearms so they were stacked on each other. She wiggled her fingers, felt that nothing was overly tight but just tight enough. Her legs were bent back, feet tugging her thighs around when she attempted to move them. She seemed to be parallel to the floor, her hair cascading over her face.

        She felt the air stir, it slid over her skin and she flushed, she was sure, head to toe. She was completely naked. She tried to twist her head around but couldn't see much of anything, couldn't get the leverage to more than swing lightly. She turned her head and saw that the ropes she had imagined were more like vines, stripped of leaves but dark green and fresh smelling. Her gaze turned back around and her chin was seized by long fingers, capturing her attention completely. His fingers tugged in and he drew her up slightly, angling her body forward. The angle was painful but she met his cool gaze with her own, her neck slightly trembling with strain. But she didn't look away. They regarded each other in silence until his fingers dropped and she gasped, sent into a sudden swing.

        "We're going to have to work on your gaze. You have too much fire to go unnoticed. Not that I mind it..." Was that...amusement? His voice had thawed a fraction and she didn't know what to do with it. But she was distracted by the sudden tug on her shoulders and legs as she was hoisted upwards. The humiliation hit her suddenly and her face burned. Where it hadn't sunk in before that she was naked in front of Malfoy, now she couldn't stop thinking about it. Her body twitched as she swayed a little, trying to turn her head to see where he was.

        "Eyes down." This voice was harder and she found herself looking down before she could question him. The floor was still dark and she pressed her lips into a firm line. She heard his foot steps, echoing on the polished stone until he stopped. She could feel him close to her side, at this height she would be level with his chest.

        "Second lesson, pet." That word should have felt condescending but he said it without a sneer, more matter of fact than anything. She flinched when he put his hand flat on her lower back, his skin warming hers. He whispered a spell and the floor rippled, the darkness clearing and light filling the room.

       She could see herself, her surroundings light and hazy. All that could be seen with sharpness was herself and him, his face out of view because of her body's position. The vines that held her were rendered invisible, all that hinted at her bondage was the reddened indentations and small abrasions on her skin. Her eyes were wide and her face and chest were flushed. Her lips were parted as she breathed a little harder. His presence was passive beside her as she drank in the image.

         She could see how the vines had pushed and adjusted her chest so her breasts were sticking out, restricting the blood flow slightly. Staring at them, she could feel her pulse, her nipples tightening as her blood rushed a little more thickly. She flinched a little when his hand shifted, deliberately, on her lower back. It rocked her back and forth slightly, and she bit her lip when the movement made her breasts jiggle.

        "Honesty." The word drifted down and snapped her attention back to him. But he sent her into a lazy spin and she was captivated with the look and feel of his hand coasting over her side as she moved, down the outside of her thigh, grazing her knee. She was facing away from him now and he was standing between her splayed thighs. Self-preservation kicked in and she gasped, her legs tugging at her bonds. There was a cracking sound a split second before a sharp flash of heat spread over her inner thigh. The skin throbbed with a queer pain and she froze, so tense that she nearly vibrated.

      "Honesty," he repeated, more softly. His hands settled heavily onto the inside of her thighs. His thumbs rubbed in slow circles and her skin tingled now. "You will lie to everyone else to keep yourself alive. But not to me. I will not tolerate your hiding from the truth. Your natural defenses have no place here. The first one will be modesty."

       She whimpered when the vines adjusted, tilting the angle of her body until she was at a forward 45 degree tilt. He was still standing between her legs but they were lowered now and she jolted a little, realizing she could see her...her... She swallowed, realizing she was wet and the dark pink was obvious next to her skin.

       His hands slid over the front of her stomach and she couldn't help but shudder a little, the deliberate contact doing something to her insides. She met her own eyes briefly in the reflection and her gaze was hooded now. Her lips were parted and her chest rose and fell a little more rapidly.

       He yanked her attention back down by sliding his hands down to the vee of her thighs. A little shift of his fingers and she was exposed more fully. She made a noise in her throat, a reflex from having his hands so close to her folds, from the total exposure that went against every childhood lesson of morality.

        His left hand shifted, keeping her open for her own gaze while his right hand disappeared. There was another smack on her thigh, in the same spot as before and it stung worse now. She yelped, then cried out when he slid a finger inside of her sheath.

       "You're nice and bare, which I like. It allows me, and you, to fully appreciate exercises like this." His finger didn't move and she was aware of the wetness slicking his way, how she throbbed with the need for more. "I'm going to make myself very clear. What once was yours is now mine. We don't have time for your embarrassment, for modesty. Those tits are mine, this wet little cunt is mine, your skin, your mouth, even your tight arsehole is mine." His last few words were punctuated with a few casual glides of his finger in, as he had so casually put it, her wet little cunt. But his words were mortifying and she closed her eyes.

        She heard him sigh and he pulled his finger out, lighting up that same spot on her thigh with a swift stinging slap. She flinched and gritted her teeth against the raw sensation. To make things worse, she could feel the lingering wetness from his finger on the sore spot.

        "Open your eyes," he said, his voice even but with no room for disagreement. She did, reluctantly. He was still holding her open, and the color of her inner and outer lips seemed darker, puffier. Then she saw him this time, saw when he rocked her forward and then back, hard, onto two fingers. She couldn't stifle the small cry. She felt her pulse throb in her cunt, on her thigh, in her nipples and her neck. She couldn't catch her breath when he used the hand spreading her to rock her back and forth on his fingers.

        "My rules aren't hard to understand, pet. You keep your eyes down, but open, until I tell you otherwise. You will remain open to me-- lips parted, legs spread, in whatever position I put you in. And you give me every response honestly. If you enjoy something, I want to hear you moan and see you ask for more with your body and your words. If you feel pain, I want to see you writhe and see your tears." The slow rocking was unraveling her and she was breathing loudly.

        "Honesty, pet. Tell me what you feel right now." His fingers crooked slightly and she shuddered, jerking a little against her bonds. It caused her to jostle his fingers and make it worse.

        "I f-feel... hot. And...achey..." Her words came out almost groggy, she was dazed. She cried out when he jerked his fingers free only to slap the same damn spot on her inner thigh, eliciting a short scream. She could see the edge of the mark, certain to make sitting down painful. He returned his fingers to her cunt but kept her still, finally releasing his hand on her front to hold her lower back to keep her still.

        "You can do better than that. Use that vocabulary. I want everything, not just what you choose to give me. I'll have it all." He pushed her forward and then back, shoving his fingers deeper and she gasped. She could see the wetness dripping down his fingers onto his hand, smearing onto her inner thighs.

       "My...cunt is throbbing, and I can feel your...your fingers, every little movement. My thigh burns like the devil but... the pain..." She swallowed, but didn't close her eyes, seeing her body for what it was in that moment. "I like it. The way I can't... move, can't be expected to try and leave. The pull on my skin, the way my damn thigh hurts. It's hard to think." Her words ripped open some small, hidden part of her and she felt the burden on her mind ease. She relaxed into the bonds and waited, her breathing ragged. He was still for a few long moments.

       "Good girl," he said, his voice warm. He tugged his fingers free and she wanted to protest but she just watched him, watched his hands and waited. He settled both hands onto her cheeks and spread them, making her shiver. He was staring, she could feel it in the air. But she held silent. The vines tugged her lower half back up so she was level and she groaned at the relief of pressure on her shoulders and chest when her weight was distributed more evenly. She was still at his mid chest from what she could see and he was still between her thighs. She jolted when she felt his breath on her cunt as he leaned over her.

        "When I have you under control like this, you're first thought is to give me what I want. I want our mission to succeed. And I want you." The words were stark, shocking more than any filthy language could be. It caused her to tremble, each word seeming to caress her aching clit. "We start with your honesty. And the more you give me, the more we trust each other. And eventually, it'll save your life."

        He paused and seemed to be waiting. Her mind raced, thinking about how she ached, how much she wanted him, in whatever perverted way he wanted. She felt exposed but not as vulnerable. No, this was more, stronger. And he wanted something from her, in this silence.

        "I'm yours." The words were raspy, quiet but clear. He seemed to leap forward into action before she could take a breath, causing her cry to become strangled. His fingers closed on her aching nipples, tugging, pinching, making them sore and she squirmed, whimpering. Then he licked his way into her folds, the invasion of his tongue shocking but welcome. He licked around her clit and followed a trail of moisture to her dripping cunt. She shuddered when he kept going, licking all the way to her arsehole, which clenched at the foreign sensation.

        He chuckled against her skin, making her squirm, before he returned to her cunt. His tongue fucked into her cunt, lapping at her as he tightened his fingers on her nipples until her eyes filled with tears. She let them fall as she struggled, feeling everything blending together and making her nerves scream. She was gasping, making small begging sounds. She did scream when he suddenly released one nipple, only to fuck two fingers into her. She moved desperately, trying to get his fingers to move. He only moved them when she felt the sudden pressure of his mouth over her clit, sucking on it nearly painfully as he rubbed his fingers deliberately inside of her. The sensation was odd until she lost her breath at a strong sensation, front and back, overcame her. She now tried to get away but he wouldn't let her.

        He sucked her clit rhymically, his fingers fucking into that nearly painful spot over and over. She was crying now, her movements tugging at her clit in his mouth and his fingers still pinching one nipple. It hurt but it didn't, she couldn't breathe. She was begging with her body first, but then her words as she dangled there literally at his mercy.

        "Please! It's too much, it hurts, I can't.." She babbled. He slowed but it only made her more aware of every little tug and movement, made her hurt worse. She tensed, her hands fisting against her arms as her breathing turned short. Her tune changed quickly. "Please, more, oh god..." It was good, it was horrific, it would kill her.

        She felt the edge of his teeth on her clit as his fingers hooked deliberately hard and he released her other abused nipple. Her breath caught. He added a third finger and pushed her a little, tugging her clit.

        She fell apart in bone deep shudders, her legs thrashing the little bit that they could as she screamed. She felt the pressure give way and wetness rushed down her thighs as her cunt clenched and rippled around his fingers again and again. She gasped for air and whimpered at the end of each harsh breath, her chest heaving. She was shaking, her head falling forward.

        At some point his mouth had released her clit although his fingers remained in her cunt, deep and invasive. Her vision cleared and she could see her flushed skin, the dark lines where the vines had held her in her struggles. The room had dimmed some and she could see the puddles of her own tears and arousal on the floor, making her turn scarlet.

        "Beautiful," he murmured, making her look towards what she could see of his dark slacks and polished shoes. He flexed his fingers deliberately and she flinched a little, a renewed tremble in her legs. She couldn't think, her mind shattered by what he had done to her.

        He removed his fingers in a slow drag that made her moan again, the wet sound of flesh releasing making it clear how much she had enjoyed herself. Enjoy was a weak word, though, for how she had felt. She felt altered.

        "We will work on politeness and permission more later." The vines shifted her slowly so she was vertical. He stepped into her view now that they were eye level and she expected a cold mask. His face was calm, but not cold. His eyes burned her though and she felt her body clench at the look.

        "A thank you wouldn't be amiss." He said, crowding into her space more. His hand moved to the small of her back and she flushed when he stroked along her arse, squeezing the flesh idly.

        "Thank you--" She started but was cut off by the harsh press of his lips against hers. He took her mouth with that restrained violence, renewing the ache she felt. His tongue fucked her mouth. He bit her lip. She kept herself open, meeting him as much as she could in her restraints. She groaned with pain as his hand slipped lower to fondle the mark on her thigh.

        He pulled back abruptly, his eyes still intense.

        "Master." The word pulled her up short but she relaxed a fraction. It was just a word, she reminded herself. It was cold comfort.

        "Thank you, Master."

        He eyed her head to toe, deliberately. Then he stepped back.

        "Enjoy your night, pet."

        She came to, her covers knotted under her, her book laying off to the side. Her panties were soaked through and her thigh ached. She felt bone deep exhaustion, didn't want to try and figure out just what had occurred. She shifted, pulling the covers up over her. She fell asleep with her leg hiked up, one hand caressing the sore spot on the inside of her leg.


End file.
